Serafina MacBride is psychic - but not strictly honest. While staging a hilarious vampire attack at a client's party, Sera is stunned to encounter a real vampire - annoying, gorgeous and inaudible to everyone but her. When her client's son is found dead with puncture wounds in his neck, she tracks the silent vampire to his lair.

But the amoral and seductive Blair is also on a mission - to find and kill a nest of young vampires who've invaded his territory. Soon Sera is drawn into the bizarre world of the undead, where danger lurks in the shadows along with forbidden sensual delights - and a murderous conspiracy to flood the world with financially astute vampires who talk.

Supported and hindered by Blair's eccentric, undead friends, and by her own motley crew from Serafina's, Sera and Blair uncover surprising truths about each other and about the mysterious Founder from whom all vampires are descended.

In the end, Sera draws on powers she never knew she had in a frantic fight to defeat the forces of evil and preserve the strange, complicated being she's trying so hard not to love.

*

Although the scary glow didn’t vanish from his eyes, they seemed to soften. His body didn’t. It still pinned her helplessly to the wall. He lifted his hand and touched her cheek, trailing his fingertips down her jaw to her throat. She gasped.

“Serafina,” he murmured in her head. “Some things are just stronger than you. They don’t necessarily hurt you, and they won’t necessarily defeat you.”

Distracting her from his surprising words, the bulge in his jeans was hardening, both alarming and exciting her. After all, he had the kind of face and body to die for. Sera had no intention of dying.

“Okay, celebrate!” she spat. “You’re stronger than me.”

His lips twitched. “I was thinking of Nicholas Smith. But now you mention it, yes, I am.” His fingers lingered over her vein, stroking. She shivered, trying not to feel the spurt of physical pleasure that was in danger of drowning out her alarm, especially when he swayed his hips in a slow, sensual caress. His erection rubbed against her tummy, and she had an insane urge to stand on tiptoe to feel it grind between her legs. “And, you know, I like that too.”

His fingers slid upward to her face once more, and he traced the outline of her lips. “Because I can kiss you without you feeling the need to stop me.”

She narrowed her eyes threateningly, although her heart seemed to plunge right through her stomach to her womb. “It won’t be the need that’s lacking,” she managed.

“But you like the way I look,” he pointed out, pressing gently on her lower lip to part it from the upper. “I’ve read it in your mind.”

“Doesn’t mean I want you slobbering all over me!” Oh Jesus, what would it feel like?

“I won’t slobber,” he promised and bent his head.

She couldn’t have avoided it. She refused to dent her dignity further by trying. So she glared into his face, daring him, while her heart thundered in treacherous anticipation. His lips hovered over hers for an instant, just long enough for her to panic that perhaps he was changing his mind and wouldn’t do it, after all. She felt an urge to close the distance herself—only to break the tension, of course. And then he did it, sliding his fingers away from her lips to cup her face and sinking his mouth into hers with blatant, wonderful, terrifying sensuality.

There was none of the buildup she was used to, the gentle brushing of lips, the soft, quick kisses that grew deeper and longer. It was an outright assault on her senses, and it was devastating. His lips were cool and firm as they moved on hers, savoring, almost as if he were drinking from her. Oh shit, don’t think drinking here! He opened her mouth wider for his tongue, which swept around her teeth and curled around her own, drawing it into his mouth. She tried to speak, but the attempt got lost in the shock of his long, sharp teeth under her tongue. Blood drummed in her head, a tattoo of fear all mixed up with wonder and sheer, unadulterated lust.

A weird sound came from her mouth, and he deepened the kiss, almost grinding his mouth into hers, demanding the response she found it impossible not to give. There had never been a kiss like this one, fierce and overwhelmingly sexual, driving all thought from her head but the gratification of desire. She melted into it, opening wide for him, winding her tongue around his, sucking and biting his lips, drawing him deeper in.

At some point, he’d begun to grind his hips too, rubbing himself against her, and she found herself moving with him, standing on tiptoe and pressing back to try to assuage the aching need between her thighs.

When she almost ran out of breath, he broke the kiss and smiled. “Oh yes,” he whispered in her mind. “All night with you. All night and day, and all night again…” His words drove her to fever pitch, eliciting a helpless mewl of desire as she reached for his mouth once more.

He gave it with enthusiasm. His hands were on her hips, stroking down to her thighs and dragging upward inside her jacket and over the sides of her breasts. She moaned into his mouth, felt his thumbs caress her desperate nipples over and over. She wanted them on her naked breasts. She wanted no clothes at all between them. She wanted him buried deep inside her, pounding her to the greatest, sweetest orgasm of her life. More than that, she yearned to blast his control to hell, to make him lose himself in the pleasure she could give him. She was sure no one had ever wanted her this much before.

She squirmed against him, dragging her arms free at last to loop them around his neck and comb her fingers through his soft hair. His hands cupped both her breasts, making her gasp, and swept downward to the fastening of her jeans.

She tore her mouth free to gasp, half laughing, “Oh stop! We can’t! This is a respectable street! People are bound to pass.”

“I don’t care. I want you now. Just for starters. I want to make you scream as you come the first time, see your face in the open air as you fall apart around me. Oh yes.”

She caught his head as he plunged back for her mouth, his fingers determinedly unfastening the buttons of her jeans. “Blair, no!”

He paused and raised his head, his eyes black and clouded with lust. “Admit it. You want me to fuck you.”

She caught the golden flash in his dark eyes, glimpsed the pointed fangs between his parted lips, and swallowed hard. “Does it come with blood drinking?”

Here's a new excerpt from my medieval historical romance, The Snow Bride.
The hero and heroine are in a tower belonging to their enemy, the
necromancer.

Excerpt.

Making torches, lighting them, took some little
time. Magnus could sense Elfrida's tension and almost see her fears tearing
at her like the harpies preyed on their hapless victims in the old tales that
he had heard around campfires in Outremer. She stayed within the tower,
calling encouragement to Christina and praying aloud, "To cleanse this
space," she told him. She did not attempt to move farther than the few steps
they had come from the threshold, for which he was grateful.
"Your sister
must be sleeping deeply," he said when she fell silent and
despondent after
no replies. "It is the time of winter dark and solid slumber."
"Or she is
drugged," Elfrida answered.
Once he spotted her gazing at him, a cool,
farsighted, assessing stare. Where he
considered pits and traps, she
concerned herself with magical dangers. He knew
she felt responsible for his
safety, a strange and queer reversal of nature to
him, but one he accepted
that he could not shake her from.
All will be better with more light, he told
himself, fending off a vague feeling
of being watched.
Baldwin finally
brought two spitting torches. Magnus told the youth to keep up
and took a
torch from him. "Do you stay here?" he asked Elfrida.
She shook her head—he
had not expected otherwise—and he put her between himself
and Baldwin.
Leading the way, Magnus began to pick a careful path across the
nails and
snares and wooden stakes, walking steadily and lifting his feet high.
All the
while, puffing like a small, furious dragon at his back, he could
hear
Elfrida and sense her taut, barely reined-in impatience. She fairly
bristled
with it. Not far and all will be well, he wanted to say to comfort
her, but he
said nothing, for they had reached the stairs, and it might not
be true.
Gray, narrow, worn, and unlit, the stairs were also slimy on certain
treads.
Spilled oil or melted candle wax? he speculated, calling out softly
in the old
tongue and his own dialect, so Baldwin would know, "Grease, here,
step over." He
did not lower his torch. Some things were best left as a
mystery.
"Christina, you are safe, beloved. Walter is waiting for you, and
all is
prepared for your return."
Elfrida was becoming more urgent and
desperate in her wishes. He longed to
shield her from this trial but knew it
was impossible.She is a warrior of magic, besides, and a warrior always
faces things. She wouldnever forgive me if I kept her out of this.
Yet it
was so ponderous, step after step, climbing in the dark, with the stair
walls
and roof feeling to close in around them, pressing down and choking...
Unless
that is just me. Since early youth he had loathed shut-in places, which
was
why in any siege he had always volunteered for any digging or mining. Now
the
disgusting, spineless fears of his boyhood shook down the backs of his
legs.If Christina is dead, will Elfrida blame me? No, she will not..
He
trod on an object that cracked and slithered beneath his peg foot. He
checked
the cry bubbling in his throat and kicked the unknown thing away,
down the
stairs. He heard it flopping into the darkness and vowed to burn the
whole tower
with fire once they were done.If Christina is dead or alive,
will Elfrida return to her village? Will she wantto stay there? Ask her,
man, and find out!
He was wary of asking and at the same time eager to ask.
As much as Elfrida
wanted to see her sister, he wanted to know her
mind.It is my future. Have the stakes ever been so high?
He ran up three
more steps and reached the first floor. The staircase continued
higher, but
now there was a tiny, cramped passageway, again unlit, and at its
end, a
door.
A blue door, he realized, hearing Elfrida's gasp of recognition. He
spun about
and gripped her shoulder tightly, in a gesture of warning and
support, then let
her go.
He reached out and touched the door with his
stump. Elfrida said nothing, did
not try to stop him, but he glanced at her
for confirmation.
She nodded, her own hands clenched in tight fists, her face
unreadable.
"Baldwin." He handed the lad his torch and set his shoulder to
the door, drawing
out his knife—better a knife than a sword in such close
quarters.
Surprise was impossible, for if there was a guard, he must have
heard their
plodding trail, so Magnus called a final warning.
"Release
your prisoners unharmed and you shall not be injured or killed.
Yield
now."
He pushed on the stout wood, astonished to find the door
unlocked, and entered.

I'm so excited to announce that HANDS-ON TRAINING, the fifth book in my Badge Bunnies Series is now available!

Happy Reading!

This hot cop is only too happy to give her private lessons!

Texas State Trooper Blake Jordan can't afford to get distracted on the job, but he can't take his eyes off the beautiful woman in his concealed carry handgun class. With soft feminine curves and eyes he just about gets lost in, Trista Durant is enough to make him forget his own name.

Trista's been drooling over Blake since the moment he walked in the classroom. His broad shoulders, big biceps and sexy voice are enough to almost melt off her panties.

When the hot cop acts completely professional despite the sultry smiles she sends his way, she realizes she's going to have to give up on getting him in her bed, or do something drastic to make it happen —like failing the hands-on portion of the class so she can get some time alone with him. Blake is only too happy to give Trista private lessons, and soon shows her what real hands-on training is all about.

Who knew shooting a gun could be so much fun? Give a whole new meaning to the term keep your weapon pointed in a safe direction at all times.

Excerpt:

“You seemed comfortable handling the weapon when it was unloaded. It wasn't until you got on the line with a loaded weapon that you started having a problem, so I think we should start there.”

Trista groaned inwardly. The possibility of romance was dropping by the second here. Blake seriously thought she wanted a firearms lesson.

She picked up her pistol. “Should I just start shooting at the target?”

“Let's work on your stance first and get you comfortable with the weapon. Then we'll do some shooting.”

Trista turned to face the target—feet together, pistol held in both hands with arms fully extended at shoulder height. “Like this?”

“Not quite.” Blake lifted his hand, then stopped. “Do you mind if I touch you? It's easier to show you than to tell you.”

Now you're talking.

“Go ahead.” She had to fight to keep the grin off her face. “If you think it will help.”

Her pulse quickened as Blake went around to stand in back of her. Without a word, he placed his boot in between her feet, gently nudging them apart. When she automatically spread her legs, he slipped one of his between her thighs to widen her stance. When she'd said she wanted Blake between her legs, this wasn't what she'd hadin mind. Not that she was complaining. She’d take him any way she could get him.

He wrapped his arms around her and clasped her hands in his. He was so big and strong she couldn’t help but feel tiny in his embrace, and it was all she could do not to moan as the hard planes of his chest pressed against her back. She knew he was only demonstrating the proper stance to help her shoot better, but at the moment, all she really cared about was how the contours of his body fit hers.

“See how much more stable you are in this position?” Blake’s voice was right next to her ear. “Wider is always better.”

She couldn't agree more. “I see that now.”

Unable to help herself, she pushed her ass back until she brushed against something firm and unyielding. She was pretty sure it wasn't his belt buckle.

She obeyed, wiggling back a little more as she let her arms relax. This time, her ass definitely met with resistance. If that was his cock she was rubbing up against and not a weapon of another sort, then Blake wasn't quite as professional as he wanted her to think. Or at least a certain part of his anatomy wasn't.

“I know you won't be able to think about breathing in a crisis situation. But right now, let's focus on good technique.” His voice was smooth as honey in her ear. “Take a deep breath and hold it.”

She inhaled, letting the air fill her lungs—and expand her breasts quite nicely. From where he stood looking over her shoulder, Blake would have had to be oblivious to miss the view down her blouse as she put on her best heaving-bosom routine.

“Beautiful,” he whispered.

He tightened his arms around her, pulling her back against him. Oh, yeah. That was definitely his cock back there. He was getting harder by the second.

“Now, just squeeze your finger gently on the trigger,” he commanded. “It should surprise you when it goes off.”

She slowly pulled the trigger. The hammer fell with a distinct click.

“That was perfect. You didn't flinch at all,” he said. “Let's try it now with the clip loaded.”

Trista almost groaned in disappointment when he moved away from her to load the magazine of her 9mm. She leaned her hip against the counter and watched as he worked. Damn, he had some nice hands. She could just imagine what they’d feel like roaming over her naked body. When he was done, he held out a set of hearing protection— the kind that cut out almost all the sound.

She frowned as she took the earmuffs. “I won't be able to hear your instructions with these on. Shouldn’t we use the foamy things.”

His mouth quirked. “The foam earplugs, you mean? No. The earmuffs muffle the sound better. Don’t worry. I'll be right behind you, guiding you by touch. All you have to do is focus on the target.”

Like she was going to be able to focus on anything with him touching her. That silly paper target positioned halfway down the shooting range was going to be the last thing on her mind.

After he was once again standing behind her, Blake leaned close to her ear for one last set of instructions before she put the muffs in place. “You have a full magazine, but I want you to take your time and try to make every shot perfect.”

She picked up her Lady Smith 9mm and sighted in on the target. Having all that rock-hard muscle pressed up against her was even more distracting than it’d been before, and her hands began to shake. Blake immediately wrapped his arms around her, his hands supporting her wrists—which only made her tremble more. The way the inside of his arms pressed against the sides of her breasts was doing all sorts of delicious things to her body.

Trista relaxed back, subtly rubbing her ass against his erection. Blake didn’t pull away. If anything, he tugged her a little closer. He was trying to seduce her.

Hot damn.

She forced herself to focus enough to actually aim in the general direction of the target and squeezed out a shot. She didn't give a damn where the bullet hit, but she did use the recoil as an excuse to bump her ass back into Blake's hard-on. She took a breath and held it, then pulled the trigger again. When she leaned back against him this time, she gently rotated her ass in blatant invitation. Blake must have approved because he slid his hands down her bare arms until his fingertips brushed the sides of her breasts.

The contact was teasing, questioning, as if he wanted to make sure this was what she wanted.

Man, this was so what she wanted.

Keeping her pistol pointed in a safe direction, she turned her head until their eyes met. The heat in his made her pulse skyrocket. She wanted to say something flirty and suggestive, but she’d have to shout to be heard over the ear protection they wore, and that wouldn’t be very sexy at all. So instead, gaze still locked with his, she slowly and deliberately grazed his scuff-roughened jaw line with her lips. That must have been good enough for Blake. When she turned back to send another 9mm downrange, he slid his hands under her breasts to cup them through her shirt. Needless to say, that round went wide of the target. Hell, she wasn't sure she even hit the wall behind it. She didn’t care. She was just happy he’d finally gotten the message she’d been sending his way.

She took a deep breath, letting her breasts fill Blake's big hands. She thought she might have moaned, but she couldn’t tell over her earmuffs. She doubted her shooting instructor had, either. That was okay. She’d make sure he knew exactly how much she enjoyed what he was doing later.

Behind her, Blake bent to nuzzle her neck. His mouth was warm on her skin, and she tipped her head to the side to give him plenty of room. Steadying the weapon, she squeezed off a lazy shot at the target and hit it dead center. Hmm, nothing like getting her breasts fondled to improve her focus.

She loved a man who knew how to use his mouth, and Blake certainly fell into that category. His lips on her neck were doing crazy things to her body, and she shivered as goose bumps chased over her skin. And when he traced his tongue along the pulse line of her jugular all the way from her collar bone up to her ear? Well, she just about melted. She was on the verge of dropping her Smith and Wesson when a sharp nip of teeth brought her back to reality. She tried to get herself under control, but she couldn't.

She was already drunk from the first little touch.

She let her head fall back, silently begging him for more. And more was exactly what he gave her. Oh God, could a woman have a neckgasm? If his mouth felt that good there, what was it going to feel like on her nipples? Or her pussy? She trembled at the thought.

She was so caught up in what Blake was doing above the collar of her shirt she almost didn’t realize he’d started unbuttoning it until she felt cool air on her skin. Her heart beat faster. He stopped halfway from the bottom to motion toward the target with his chin.

Trista blinked. He wanted her to keep shooting? Was he nuts? She was so blurry-eyed from excitement she was starting to worry about their safety. But he was insistent, nudging her again.

She lifted her 9mm and took a deep breath, doing her best to lock her eyes on the man-shaped silhouette hanging from the cable. The task was made more difficult by the fact that Blake had finished with the buttons on her shirt and had wrapped his hands around her satin-covered breasts. She hadn't thought her shirt had been that thick, but the increase in sensation let her know that was a lie. Her nipples tightened almost painfully against her bra.

Blake gave her a sharp nip on the neck to put her back on task. She lifted her head, took another breath and held it, then squeezed off a shot at the head of the target.

Hmm, another hit. She’d better be careful, or Blake might catch on to her game.

In 2008 my book, Brilliant Disguise, released in digital form. This is one of my favorites because it's set in my home town and it features people I know.

Setup: undercover FBI
agent Nick Baxter has been sent to New
Providence, Iowa to
investigate recent widow Shannon Delgardie. Shannon's
husband was suspected of treason. What Nick doesn't know is that Shannon (and
just about everybody else in town) knows who he is because Shannon's
father was in the CIA and she has 'contacts' who have helped her research Nick.

As they entered the
vestibule of the church, Shannon started to
move toward the balcony steps but Katherine firmly took her arm. “We’ll sit
downstairs today, not in the balcony.”

Shannon
rolled her eyes and let her mother lead them down the main aisle. A hush fell
over the room and dozens of pairs of eyes swung to Shannon, then Nick, then
back to Shannon. “Everybody’s staring,” Shannon whispered.

“I know, dear. Oh, let’s
sit with Joan. She and Matthew are right there.” Katherine darted into a pew.
Shannon and Nick followed, Nick taking the aisle seat.

He settled himself,
reaching behind to adjust his holster. He looked up and met several curious
eyes. He smiled and turned to Shannon. “I
wonder what they would do if I kissed you right now.”

Shannon
looked up at him, eyes huge. “Kissing in church? Not allowed.”

“It is at the end of
wedding ceremonies,” he said, bending down and brushing her cheek with his
lips.

She rapped him on the leg
with her church program. “Behave.”

“I love you,” he murmured.

Shannon
was aware of the fact her family, as well as about a fourth of the town, was
watching their interplay. Oh, well, she thought. In for a penny, in
for a pound. “I love you, Nick,” she said.

He leaned back satisfied
and the people in the pew behind them leaned back and relaxed, too. A gentle
buzzing erupted in the congregation.

As services go, it wasn’t
long, but it was to the point, and the point had Shannon
squirming. The minister’s sermon discussed courage, bravery and calling on
people we love in times of adversity. There wasn’t much Bible in it, except for
a few cryptic references to the Song of Solomon that at first perplexed Shannon, and, once the import sank in, embarrassed her.
In fact, Shannon thought, the minister
strongly implied God had intervened and brought Nick to town with the express
purpose of (1) rescuing Shannon from thugs and (2) rescuing Shannon from her
unmarried and possibly licentious state.

Shannon,
however, found it hard to concentrate because Nick was sitting next to her and
she was remembering the feeling of him in the shower. She remembered his husky
voice when he said certain things at certain times, and the way his hands could
move over her and excite her to riot with just a touch. Then she remembered the
feeling of him in her hands…

Shannon
broke off those thoughts and fanned herself with her program, smiling at Nick
when he looked at her with a quizzical expression. “Warm,” she explained.

“Hmm.”

Nick, of course, looked
fine in his lightweight sports coat and black jeans. Actually, Shannon thought with many sidelong glances, he looked
more than fine. He looked good enough to eat. Then she blushed at that thought
and fanned herself some more.

When the service finally
ended, she shot to her feet to bolt out of the church. It was not to be,
though. Everyone in the room wanted to chat, either with Katherine, Nick, or
Shannon. Consequently, they were one of the last ones to shake hands with the
minister after the sermon.

“Very nice sermon,”
Katherine said. “I especially liked the part about smiting the Philistines. So
pertinent.”

“I gathered that.” The
minister smiled at Shannon. “Haven’t seen much
of you.”

“I’ve been in California,” Shannon
said, cheeks turning pink.

“Perhaps we’ll see more of
you now that you’re home.” The minister looked at Nick, then back to Shannon. “Both of you.”

Shannon
muttered a reply and started to move on but noticed Nick wasn’t with her. She
looked back. He was in low-voiced conversation with Reverend Somerset. Katherine
smoothly took her arm. “Help me down those front steps, honey. I hate going
down concrete steps alone.”

“You could probably run up
and down those steps all day.”

“Perhaps, dear, but Nick
wants some privacy so let’s just accommodate him.”

“You guys are determined
to get me married, aren’t you?”

“It seems like such a good
idea,” Katherine said. They looked up as the Man Van skidded to a stop in front
of the church. Evie, Chris, Beth and Marty grinned out at Shannon.

“Oh, Walter the janitor
here at your church called Danny the janitor over at our church, and the word
just got around.” Evie grinned and winked. “So when’s the big day?”

“Can I be in your
wedding?” Beth asked, almost falling out of the back window in excitement. “I
wanna throw flowers! I can do that good!”

Marty shoved Beth aside.
“I’ll do the cake. Or the presents—I’ll unwrap presents.”

“I’m not getting married,”
Shannon said with all the firmness she could
muster.

“Right. Don’t forget, Beth
wants to be flower girl and Marty wants to help cut the cake,” Evie said. “I
promise they’ll be on their best behavior.” She smiled at Katherine then said
to Chris, “Let’s go, honey, lunch with your folks today. Bye!” And then they
were gone, arms waving.

“People in this town need
more to occupy their attention than my love life,” Shannon
muttered.

Nick came down the steps
and once again, her heart skipped several beats at the sight of him. She knew
she had a sappy grin on her face but she couldn’t help it. “But your love life
is so interesting,” Katherine said, watching.

On this day in 2010, Living Proof, the 2nd book in my New Human Intercession series, released. This series is a futuristic one, and I'm currently working on the book(s) that lead up to it. Stay tuned!

“Do you want to come to my chambers and chat?” Jak walked up two steps and smiled down at her. “You did leave your clothes there, after all.”

She looked at him, the steps, then back at him. There was no way she was going to walk up a steep flight of stairs with a naked man in front of her. “I’ll meet you there.” She started to levitate toward his balcony.

Jak laughed and bounded up the steps. They met at the summit, Dru touching down just as he reached the top landing. He put his hands on her arms to steady her as she wobbled on the tip of the balcony. “Careful.” His voice was as warm and caressing as the look he gave her. “I’d hate to have anything happen to you.” His fingers opened and closed on her arms, tugging her slightly closer.

Despite herself, Dru leaned into his touch, conscious of his body, all that taut flesh tantalizingly out of reach. She took a deep breath and pulled away. “We need the extra revenue the mining will bring in.”

“We?” He released her slowly and walked back to his chamber, taking a towel from the bin near the windoor.

Dru also grabbed a towel and quickly dried herself then snatched up her fallen clothes and followed, pulling on the T-dress as she entered the room. “You know what I mean—the Council needs the revenue.”

Jak was pulling on a pair of dark brown trousers over the underbottoms he’d donned, the loose, baggy fabric cool and comfortable in the stifling heat. “Why?” He shrugged into a loose beige shirt, as lightweight as his trousers. “The last time I checked, our reserves were very healthy. There’s no reason to establish a factory on Northern.” He ran a hand through his hair then crossed to the bathing chamber and disappeared inside. His voice echoed out to her faintly. “What’s the real reason you want that factory?”

Dru sat on the edge of his bed and pulled on her sandals, which were harder to get on than take off. She stood as he emerged from the chamber, hair neatly combed and his shirt tucked in. He raised an eyebrow when he saw her seat. “Really, Dru. If you wanted to share my bed, you had only to ask. I’d be happy to oblige you.”

Dru shot him an exasperated look. “It’s time we looked more closely at Northern. A factory gives us the right chance.”

“Looked more closely?” Jak paused, eyes narrowed in thought. “You mean you want to find out if there’s evidence of a war or—”

Hush! Dru’s mindvoice was sharp and insistent, with just a hint of Compulsion. You don’t know who might be listening.

“Spies? Here? In the government center?” Jak put a hand on his chest. “You shock me. Ready to go?”

“What?” She tottered on her high heels.

“Council meeting.” He strode past her then glanced back, his eyes sweeping her once from head to toe. “You might want to change clothes. And maybe do something with your hair. You know how Josha feels about casualness in the council chamber. Perhaps you could find something more professional. Something more appropriate to your age and station.”

“What? Exo!” Dru stomped after him, jerking to a halt when he stopped in the doorway leading to the main hallway of the Personal Wing of the government center.

“Have you talked to Isbel lately?”

Dru stared up at him. “Isbel?”

“Your sister,” he reminded her. He gestured through the door and Dru blew out an impatient sigh, preceding him into the hallway. “You remember Isbel, don’t you? She lives on Isla Buena and is a researcher into ancient diseases along with her mentor, Parlo Celmano? That Isbel?”

“She’s my half-sister. Of course I remember Isbel,” Dru snapped. She started down the hall to the left, toward the council chambers, but stopped when she realized he wasn’t following. “Where are you going?”

“Your chambers are that way.” He gestured to the right then began walking slowly in that direction.

“So?”

He shook his head. “I don’t know why you insist on antagonizing Josha.”

“I don’t insist on antagonizing him.” Dru followed Jak down the hall to her rooms. “He’s old-fashioned.”

“He has scruples.” Jak waited for her next to the white plasteel door leading to her personal apartments. “Don’t confuse that with being stodgy.”

“Being what?”

“Stodgy. It’s a word I recently learned.”

She sniffed in disdain. “From one of those moldy old documents you’ve been reading, I suppose.”

“I suppose.”

“What about Isbel?” Dru ran her hand over the scanner. The door lock whirred then the door swung open.

“I beg your pardon?” Jak smiled at her politely.

“You mentioned Isbel. Why?” Dru moved into the front hallway of her personal apartments, looking back at him over her shoulder.

“Oh, yes. She’s here.”

“Here?” Dru turned slowly to confront him.

“Yes. On Main.” Jak pointed the floor, wiggling one finger up and down. “In Madride. In fact she’s here, at the government center.”

“What?” Dru’s stomach knotted, a typical reaction when she thought of her older half-sister. Her love-hate relationship with Isbel was as exasperating as this feline/rodent game she played with Exo. “Why?”

“Oh, I’m not so sure about that.” Jak walked back the way they’d come. “I’m sure we’ll see their application. I doubt it will be automatically approved; and you know any applications which are questionable always come before the Council.” He glanced at the hall clock. “You’d better hurry.” He strode down the hall toward the council chambers.

“Exo!” Dru glared at his retreating back. “What do you mean, a baby license? Exo!” When he didn’t pause, she considered exerting her not-inconsiderable Compulsive Talent, but she restrained herself just in time. Such a breach of paranormal etiquette would never be allowed.

Dru contented herself with striding into her apartment and slamming the door with a flick of her telekinetic power. It made a satisfying booming sound in the empty hallway. She strode into her bedchamber and peered into her closet. Something appropriate to her “age and station”? Dru crossed her arms. She’d show him.

Joey and Greg were so popular in Wedding Heat: Skinny Dipping that I brought them back for a threesome with the golf instructor in Wedding Heat: Hole In One!

Forget the happy couple—it’s the guests that make this wedding sizzle!

Joey
was a virgin until last night, when he met Greg. Now Greg’s teaching
Joey a thing or two about golf… until Remi the resort instructor tries
to take over. Joey’s caught in the middle, and he can’t escape these
hot, horny, surprisingly dominant men. When they get Joey behind the
tree line, all he can do is surrender to their lust.

Greg’s voice was thin and high when he offered Joey’s golf club to Remi. “I guess you’ll be wanting this back, huh?”

Remi
grabbed the club, but he didn’t look angry or upset. In fact, he even
laughed at the condom Greg had lovingly wrapped over the grip. “This is
a novel idea, boys.”

With a nervous chuckle, Greg said, “Yeah, thanks.”

“Why
don’t you take a seat over by your friend’s face, huh?” Remi grabbed
the lube and drizzled even more down Joey’s ass crack. “I think I can
take it from here.”

Joey
heard himself whimper, but his embarrassment melted away when Greg
eased down in front of him on the mossy rock. The sight of that
purple-headed monster made him moan, and he didn’t feel ashamed of that
noise at all.

“I want you to suck your friend’s dick, Joey.”

He
turned his head just in time to see Remi lifting the golf club, angling
it, aiming it right at his waiting ass. Gulping, he squeaked, “Okay.”

Right away, Greg smacked the side of Joey’s head. “Friend? I thought I was more than just a friend.”

“You are!” Joey stammered, feeling like the monkey in the middle.

Greg held his hard-on by the base, flicking it at Joey’s lips. “Prove it.”

When
Joey tasted Greg’s salty-sweet precum on his lips, that was the end.
He opened his mouth, wrapping it around Greg’s pulsing cockhead, and he
sucked.

Groaning, Greg ran a hand through Joey’s hair. “Oh yeah. Oh fuck that’s good, Joey. Keep going.”Those
words of encouragement urged him to suck harder, and he did. He sucked
that mushroom tip with all his might, so hard Greg hissed and pushed
his head away. “Too much, dude. Not so hard.”

“Sorry,” Joey said, feeling his neck and his ears glowing with humiliation.

He was about to try again when Greg palmed his forehead. “Nah, nah, not yet. You gotta kiss it better first.”

From
behind, Remi chuckled. The deep rumble of Remi’s voice thundered
through Joey’s gut, making his dick jump against his belly.

“Yeah,
kiss it,” Remi taunted, like he was on Greg’s team now, like they’d
planned this encounter. “Kiss your boyfriend’s dick.”

Three couples caught in a war have only one solution -- peace. Si vis pacem, para bellum.

Darius and Medusa, Lamon and Sicily, Theron and Ryver -- these three couples have struggled to make love work in the middle of the vampire-mage war, but now talk of peace is testing the strength of their relationships. One simple meeting could mean the end of it all or the start of a new and brighter future together.

Lamon didn’t know what Theron was getting at. They should be planning, not comparing notes. “He said there would be a cease-fire until you meet with him.”

“And then after that, he said he knew I would come because he has something that belongs to me.”

“Medusa.”

“Exactly. He’s using her as bait for this trap.”

“At least you believe it to be a trap.”

“I’m not stupid, Lamon. This could be nothing else. By killing the vampire elders, I have shown myself to be the most powerful vampire. If they take me out then our kind will falter and eventually lose the war.”

“All the more reason for you not to go.”

“All the more reason for me to go. He has Medusa. I saved her from one madman. I won’t leave her with another.”

Lamon agreed. “I’m coming with you.”

“No. You’re staying put.”

“Of course. That’s sound. In case you need someone to retrieve you. Who will you take in my stead?”

“I’m taking no one because I’m going alone. And you’re staying put so you can take care of your wife. She needs you now more than me.”

“Bullshit. Theron, you’re talking crazy. You can’t meet the mage king alone. You saw his power. You’d be walking into your own death.”

“I have no intention of dying.”

Sicily snapped, “What about Ryver?”

“And hello to you too, Sicily,” Theron said with dry humor.

“Cut the crap. You’re leaving Ryver alone to go play cops and robbers. What happens if you die? What happens to Ryver? She’s tied to your life.”

“I won’t die, and I think I should be insulted that you both think so little of my powers.”

Sicily sliced her hand across the air in a dismissive gesture. “Where’s Ryver? I want to hear what she has to say about all this. Put her on.”

“Ryver is sleeping.”

“Like hell. There’s no way she would sleep through something this big. What did you do to her? If you hurt her, so help me, I’ll kick your ass. Put her on now.”

Theron’s dark eyes bled to black to match his shoulder-length hair and the square goatee that covered his jaw. He moved closer to the communication spell. Lamon put his arm out to shield Sicily from what he knew was coming but a flick of Theron’s hand sent Lamon careening into the far wall of the cabin, pinned there and helpless.

Sicily squirmed as though trying to get out of someone’s hold, because she was. Theron had probably wrapped a binding spell around her.

Theron said with his voice full of menace, “You are new, Sicily, and have a lot to learn. But you will learn this one lesson quickly. No one commands me. I rule you, not the other way around. Do you understand me?”

Sicily squeaked with pain before nodding quickly. The power that held her released and she slumped forward with several gasping breaths. Lamon also found himself able to move. He was equal parts angry and happy Theron had bound him. If he hadn’t been bound, Lamon would have gone through the communication spell and beaten Theron for daring to harm Sicily.

WHISKEY CREEK PRESS TORRID-if you are taken to a warning page the publisher has assured me that it's okay to proceed. It might be your browser, because the issue was taken care of weeks ago. However, if you'd rather not take any chances, please go to Amazon. Thanks and sorry for any inconveniences.AMAZON- will be available in a couple days
ISBN: 978-1-61160-427-6

Mike Denton knows he’s in big trouble the minute he meets attractive divorcee Emma Stuart. Busy raising a teenage daughter, he doesn’t have time to pursue his own needs until she’s out of high school. That doesn’t mean he can’t enjoy an occasional after noon delight. The only problem is Emma’s not that kind of woman. And her pretty brown eyes and luscious curves lure him into breaking his one hard fast rule of not sleeping with the same woman twice.

Emma thought she was content with her quiet new life down on the lake. That is until a mistake lands the small town’s hunky detective on her door step. As soon as their eyes meet her body responds to his sex appeal in a big way, reminding her she hasn’t had sex in two years. After he leaves she thinks they’ll never see each other again. But what Emma hadn’t counted on was her sister’s match making skills.

Passionate Encounters is the new and improved, highly sexed up version of Cupid's Arrow. Cupid's Arrow was released in 2006 and was on the publisher's best seller's list for two consecutive months.

EXCERPT-Mike sat down without resistance. She moved in close, and raised her hand to put the compress she’d made over his eye.

Hell, he thought, a concussion was the least of what he had. He took a long, deep breath, hoping it was enough to calm down his racing heart and his very male reaction to her closeness. Her subtle fragrance reached him on a sensual level, and only added fuel to the fire.

“Me too.” Mike clenched teeth. Didn’t she realize she’d moved between his thighs? When she brushed up against him he released a low groan, and closed his fists to keep from grabbing her.

Sweat broke out on his brow. There was nowhere for him to retreat. He assumed Emma finally realized her mistake when she suddenly reared back with a knowing look in her eyes. She took a breath that sounded like a gasp of pleasure, and he watched her pupils dilate. He knew then and there she was as affected by his nearness as he was hers.

With a weak smile on her trembling lips, she attempted to step back. Just when Mike figured things couldn’t get any worse, her sneaker got caught on a rough edge of uneven ground and she stumbled backwards, her arms flailing wildly as she lost her balance.

It happened so fast there was no time for thought. He moved rapidly and clamped his thighs together, entrapping her between his legs. His actions had dire consequences though. She bumped against a spot most women aimed for when they were being attacked. And he was hard as a rock.

“Oh!” Her pretty eyes grew round, her soft lips parted.

Mike sucked in his breath, but it wasn’t because he was in any pain. He squeezed his eyes shut, and exhaled a groan as lust surged through him like a rocket blasting off for the moon. The feel of Emma’s soft body against his groin produced the kind of rush he hadn’t experienced since high school. Hell, he couldn’t recall the last time he’d experienced it.

Son of a bitch! His hands went to her hips to push her away. But the slight resistance of her body caught him off guard. His gaze zeroed in on hers. For a second her features seemed twisted in desire. Eyes closed, she was panting for breath, nostrils flaring. Then it was gone and he was left wondering if he’d imagined it.

Her smoky eyes opened to him. He threw caution to the wind, and kept her close to his pounding cock. She was soft and pliable beneath his hold, and seemed to sway slightly. The slightest sigh escaped her. The slightest movement of her hips brought her even closer against him.

Sweet Jesus! Her acceptance of the intimate situation sent him over the edge. With a low groan Mike transferred one of his hands to the back of Emma’s head. He grabbed a handful of her ponytail and before he realized what he was doing he pulled her face down toward his.

“Damn, lady, I need a taste.”

He didn’t give her a chance to respond. Besides, she wasn’t showing any sign of resistance so Mike intended to take full advantage. One kiss, that’s all he wanted. A sample to appease his fierce desire for her. At least until they had time for something more satisfying.

He slammed his mouth down on hers. Lust getting the better of him. Mike knew it was madness that gripped him, and that he should stop. Only once he inhaled the sweetness of Emma’s breath, and tasted the warmth of her mouth nothing else mattered.

With a Pdeep moan Emma’s hands fell to his shoulders as though she needed help in staying on her feet. Then she was rubbing against Mike’s cock like a hungry feline, opening her mouth to his searching tongue. Before he knew it the sounds of their passion was drowning out everything else.

If things continued on the course they were heading he was going to embarrass himself and not just in front of her but the whole damn team. He was shaking by the time he found the strength to release her.

She quickly stepped back. Her cheeks were rosy and her eyes glittered like polished gem stones. Her mouth was swollen, and her breast rose and fell rapidly with each breath.

Mike could see in her eyes that she was slightly confused. Perhaps even amazed at the hot kiss they’d just shared. And it was obvious she was at a loss for words.